Vertiginosus
by Syl Evanesco
Summary: New Character enters the B.A.U. Want more? Must read. . . Will be rated M later for future chapters gore/language/violence
1. Seasons

"Seasons"

September 23rd 2006

Vivaldi's "Spring" from "The Four Seasons" echoed off the bare freshly painted deep yellow walls of my small new apartment. It was painfully plain, a dramatic contrast from the warm home I left back in Seattle, but it would do for now. The fumes were just starting to bother my nostrils as I finished the last coat of semi-gloss in the bedroom, but I endured. I was determined to finish the whole place before the next day. Once my new job started I wasn't sure how much time I would be able to devote to home improvement. Being stubborn and headstrong was always viewed as one of my more negative qualities, but I wasn't about to spend one more night in the vomit green colored bedroom.

I wasn't comfortable leaving the windows open while I was sleeping, so my old navy blue couch would have to serve as my bed for the night. Not to mention the autumn air wasn't any less chilly in Virginia this time of year. The open living room area that temporarily served as my bedroom was finally free of the chaotic mess and now showed signs that an organized human being now inhabited it.

On the dining room table laid three outfits, all neatly matched with shoes, jackets, and a purse. The first was my idea of what a high class business executive woman might wear on a casual day, something I hated to imagine wearing. The suit was black, straight laced and more conservative than the clothes found in a preachers daughters closet. The second outfit, and my favorite, consisted of a new pair of black high heel boots, a clean pain of dark jeans, and a dark long-sleeved button down blouse. The last outfit was a good medium between the two. I matched a tailored pair of black slacks with a dark green, short sleeved fitted sweater and a pair of black flat boots.

Of all the things I should have been concerned about, what to wear was ranking high on my worry list. First impressions were a big deal, and the right clothes were a huge part of the equation.

It was almost midnight before the painting was done to my satisfaction. By then I was ready for a nice hot shower and a warm cup of herbal tea. By tomorrow night I would be able to sleep soundly in my own bed, and complete my claim on the place.

I left the music playing while I checked the locks on all the windows and doors before heading to the bathroom, careful not to wake my large, sleeping, German Shepard on the blue matching chair. I always checked the locks twice at night after a man was able to enter into a friend of mines house because she neglected the simple gadgets. It wasn't an obsession, or a small case of paranoia, it was purely precautionary.

I started the water and had a seat on the sink while waiting for it to heat up, staring at myself in the mirror.

It was hard to believe I was still here. For the longest time I thought of myself as weak and ordinary, but I, Charlotte Ryan Moss, was anything but ordinary. Through both high school and college I gained physical strength that was admired by both my male and female peers. I ran every morning with my loyal dog Holster, lifted weights five days a week, took both boxing and Pilate's classes, and was still able to eat anything I wanted. I had always had a complex about my figure, never having been what my mother called "feminine enough" to meet society's standards. It was by far the weakest link of my self esteem.

As I got older I showed my concerns about physical appearance less. The truth to that was simple to me. It had been almost six years since someone genuinely called me beautiful, and my belief and conviction that I was, died along with the people who had tried so hard to prove it to me. It simply just didn't matter to me anymore.

I told myself I couldn't think about those past events, that it would only bring back painful memories that made me feel less than human, but even saying it verbally didn't work. I carried the deceased with my through every operation, every mission, every trip to the grocery store, like a surgically implanted weight. Unlike most who did the same, I never allowed it to consume me. I enjoyed life and had come to terms with the fact that they would be hurt if I ever stopped living because of the grief. I helped people now, and that made the burden worth carrying.

I tossed my paint splattered clothes in the wicker hamper behind the door and slowly submerged myself under the running water. Water was pure and capable of cleaning away even the darkest of agents. Thinking back, some of my most powerful thoughts and revelations can while I was in the water. The back of my neck tingled as the water hit it, the sensitive nerves complaining about the heat. But the pain was bearable. After a few months I had learned to live with it.

Tomorrow was going to be a fresh start. Technically I was still working for the same people, but this was the job I had wanted since the beginning. And there it was: the silver lining in the storm cloud of my compromised identity.


	2. Angel Takes a Soul 1

"Angel Takes a Soul"

September 24th 2006

_"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."_

_**~ Anais Nin **__(spoken by Jason Gideon)_

The last outfit won the competition. It was good enough to make a decent first impression without looking like I was trying too hard. My nerves were calm as I sipped on my third cup of coffee while driving to the bureau; and they didn't change as I entered the building. I had to use a map to navigate to the correct parking lot due to the size of Quantico. The headquarters for the Behavioral Analysis Unit was almost dead center.

I had clear directions where to report to first. I walked with my head held high, but not too much so, with my shoulders slightly pushed back, making it obvious to everyone who cast me a glance that I wasn't about to be intimidated just because I was the new-blood. Some middle aged men gave me the looks that I wasn't a stranger to, but I ignored them. Egotistical men with guns, who ate Viagra like candy didn't interested me about as much as a wad of gum stuck on the sidewalk.

I decided to avoid the massive elevator crowds even though I was headed straight to the fifteenth floor where all the heads were located. The stairs were no walk in the park, but I had plenty of time. The climb to success, I imagine is what some might have called it.

At the top awaited a well furnished waiting room with stiff uncomfortable chairs and out-of-date magazines. The walls were a dull off white color, probably pained recently, and the furniture looked like it was rarely ever used.

There was only one other person, besides myself, inhabiting the top floor.

"May I help you?" A secretary with no personality, short frizzy red hair and sunken cheek bones didn't even look up from her computer as I approached her desk.

"My name is Charlotte Moss, I'm here to see Director Glass." I politely smiled at the bored woman, proud that after six years in the service I could still produce a genuine one without straining my face.

"You're expected, go on in," she didn't return the smile.

Director Mary Glass' office was located at the far end of the narrow hall. It was well known that she was the first female director of the F.B.I. and one of the few with an un-vocalized insecurity about her intelligence. Inside there wasn't much wall space that didn't have a book shelf, diploma, award, or some other self glorifying article on it. She had no personal pictures on her desk, wore no wedding ring, and had her dark hair pinned back so tightly that it made my head hurt. Director Glass was in a mans world, and she looked the part. Her bulky dark suit didn't hide her stout build or miss placed curves that could have once been womanly. If I had to guess, it would be that she dressed that way intentionally to make herself feel more important than she already was. I was intentionally trying to gather as much un verbal information as I could about my boss. I hadn't used that specific training in a while, but it was coming easier than I thought it would.

"Special Agent Charlotte Ryan Moss, welcome to Quantico," Director Glass stood and offered me her hand, but never stepped out from behind her desk.

"Thank you, Director." I took her hand, surprised by her firm, manly grip.

"Please take a seat and we'll get down to business." I did as I was told as she resumed her seat and continued. "You come highly recommended Agent Moss, I wasn't expecting you to be so young." Obviously she didn't read my whole file with the basic information in it.

"I had high expectations for myself and worked hard to achieve my goals. Age is but a number to me."

"How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"Normally I would say that you're not experienced enough to work in the B.A.U. But I personally called your former boss. He assured me that I was mistaken and that you were the best choice for the position."

"I just like getting the job done ma'am, whatever it takes. I'm glad he thought so highly of me."

"Well, I'm happy you've accepted my request to join our team. Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner's team just had a member resign after being under investigation for a questionable shooting and I am in need of a replacement for her immediately."

"I came prepared to start work today as you requested ma'am."

"Good to hear it. Now," she grabbed a file off her desk and rose, "here is your transfer file. SSA Hotchner's office is located on the fifth floor in room 507. The building isn't that complicated so you shouldn't have a problem finding it. He should be expecting you. You're the first transfer to his team that he hasn't fought me on." I took the file from her and shook her hand one more time before dismissing myself.

It didn't bother me that I was left on my own to find his office. Especially since it meant I didn't have to try and make awkward small talk with people who had better things to do than play tour-guide.

Down on the fifth floor there was a larger multitude of people, bustling around, noses buried in files, and a few were even sharing enjoyable conversations. I made my way around them in the main room that branched off to two large hall ways. At a glance, the one to my right was filled with two lines of closed doors. To the left was the direction that I needed to go. The hall opened up after the first two offices to a large open room with a crowded bull pen dead in it's center. Stairs led the way up to the continuous wall of closed office doors down the same wall and down on one other side. One properly angled wall separated a small kitchen and break room from the bull pen.

The desks were grouped together by sets of four and were extremely close in proximity. But only one group, farthest from the entrance, didn't seem to mind the close quarters. Their body language was unlike that of some of the other teams around them. They were relaxed and slouching against their desks, completely comfortable having a good conversation in their surroundings.

Office 507 was the second office from the corner with the door closed just like all the others. I took a deep breath, adjusted the file in my other hand, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

I brushed a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of my French braid and opened the door.

"Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner? I'm Charlotte Moss, the transfer from Seattle." I handed him my file, but he didn't open it. Instead, he set it on the top of a stack of other files on his desk.

"Welcome to Virginia, Agent Moss. I wish I had the time to properly get you settled, but our liaison has a pressing case for us. Are you prepared for work?"

"Yes sir."

"Just bring your stuff with you to the conference room; I'll have someone show you your desk after the briefing."

He led the way back out of his office and down the raised platform all the way to the end. I didn't have much time to get a good look at his office, but already I liked him better than I had the Director. At least he didn't present himself like a political monkey. He was a tall, intimidating man, with broad shoulders and dark hair. Hotchner was also polite and held open the door for me. I was confused by his face. His eyes were distant with a forced blankness than did a good job in hiding the warmth that was there.

The last room was the B.A.U. conference room, filled with the team that had caught my eye from the bull pen just minutes before. They were mingling around, waiting on their leader before taking their seats. The room was simple yet high-tech. Tall, narrow windows lined the only wall that didn't have TV's or white boards hanging on them. In the center, where everyone was talking, was a large wooden round table surrounded by eight high back chairs.

Hotchner closed the door behind me and the introductions started.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet SSA Charlotte Moss, the newest member of our team. She just transferred in. Moss, this is Jason Gideon," a shorter middle aged man with a long smiling face and soft dark eyes stepped forward to shake my hand. He was dressed like a college professor; in a dark red long-sleeved sweater and kaki pants.

"Derek Morgan, who also teaches hand to hand combat for the bureau," he was easily the best looking man in the room. Derek had light chocolate skin, and a charmingly flirtatious smile. He didn't rise from his seat but shot me a wink and a smile from across the table.

"Our liaison, Jennifer Jareau," a slender, pretty woman with straight golden blond hair turned around from the white board.

"It's JJ," she corrected him, and smiled as she took my hand, then straightened her perfectly pressed blouse back in place and turned back to the white board.

"And this is Dr. Spencer Reid, our expert on pretty much anything." The tall, slim man from the corner stood, tripping over his feet as he made his way around the table. His medium length brown hair was tucked behind his ears, out of his face, exposing what I liked to call 'puppy dog eyes'. He seemed unsure about what to do. Instead of a hand shake he just awkwardly waved at me. Dressed in a checked button down shirt with a loose tie and brown slacks, Reid looked more like a recently graduated college student than an F.B.I. agent. He also had a pair of reading glasses hanging out of his front breast pocket.

"Doctor? What are you a doctor of?"

"I'm not a medical doctor. I have three P.H.D.'s in engineering, chemistry and psychology."

"Really? Impressive. You don't look much younger than me."

"Reid here is a certified genius, Charlotte." Morgan had come over and gripped Reid's shoulder into a masculine one armed hug.

"Everyone calls me Charlie." I hated being called by my full name. It sounded too official for me.

"Well Charlie, welcome to the B.A.U. Looks like Reid here isn't the baby of the team anymore. How old are you?"

I laughed in my head. It was amazing how people were so fascinated with age.

"I'm twenty-six."

Morgan seemed overly pleased, slapping his teammate on the back. "Guess you're still out of luck kid." Reid laughed at him, but I could tell it was forced. He probably got a lot of jokes because of how much he had accomplished in the short amount of time he was here.

We made our way over to the table when Hotchner cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. I took the empty seat the Morgan and Reid left between them.

"So, how much did I beat you by?" I asked in a whisper. I couldn't help it, I was curious.

He glanced over from his fixed focus point on the television screen and answered, "One year."

"That's not too bad. It could be worse, I could be twice your age." I saw him crack a smile at my feeble attempt at a joke to break the ice.

JJ handed out the files and set hers down on the table, picking up the remote and bringing several crime scene photo's of elderly victims.

"Athens, Ohio, elderly men and women in four different nursing homes have been dying of 'accidental' medical overdoses. At first the doctors believed that they were just accidents, or natural causes, but the last three victims: Elena Homes, Victor Knite, and Mary Rice had no medical problems that needed to be treated. All three were relatively healthy for their age. The Athens police department believes they are dealing with a serial killer. Due to the recent discoveries they want to exhume the bodies of other deceased patients of the nursing homes to be certain, but many of the families are trying to fight them on it."

"So Athens thinks they have an Angel of Death?" It was more of a statement than a question from Morgan.

"That's what they want us to find out. Do we know if the victims have anything in common?" Asked Hotchner.

"Not yet, they didn't send us much."

"How many do they think died this way?" Asked Gideon, his voice calm and even.

"They're estimating somewhere between 10 and 30. The lead detective wants to exhume all the bodies of those who died at the four nursing homes to be sure. He didn't say how far he was going back."

"Alright, everyone get your go-bags, wheels up in twenty minutes." Hotchner was the first one out the door after he finished speaking. Everyone else was taking out their phones to make calls home and cancel any plans they might have had for the week. I was lucky in some ways that I didn't have to worry about making those calls. The only call I had to make was to by neighbors. I met them when I first moved in, and they offered to take care of my dog for me when I was away.

After that it was time to get ready.


	3. Angel Takes a Soul 2

"Charlie?"

I turned to face Gideon after putting my phone back in my pocket.

"Yes sir?"

"You have a go-bag ready don't you?"

"Yes sir, it's out in my car."

"Good. Reid, why don't you escort her and show her the way to the airfield? Those maps aren't very reliable." He added the last bit of information after glancing at the folded up paper sticking out of my pocket that I had been reaching for.

"That's ok, I'm sure I can find it. I navigated here pretty well earlier."

"Oh, I have no doubt in your navigational skills, I just don't want to take any chances." Gideon seemed more like a guiding father than a hardened special agent. He left after the others, leaving me and the doctor behind.

"I guess you're stuck with me Dr. Reid."

"You don't have to call me doctor. Just Reid, or Spencer, no one on the team calls me that." He spoke rather quickly, but I was able to understand him as we walked around to the bull pen. "I just have to grab my bag from my desk and then we can go."

"Ok. So Reid, any idea which one is my desk," I asked as he started putting some of his belongings into his bag.

"That one," He pointed over his shoulder at the one directly behind his. "It was Elle Greenaways, but she resigned two days ago."

"Two days? I got the request for my transfer almost two weeks ago."

"That's not surprising with the investigation she was going under. That started three weeks ago. If Elle hadn't resigned Glass would have fired her anyways. There was too much unexplained evidence against her. Who requested your transfer?"

"Director Glass."

"Now that's surprising. As far as I know she's never personally put in a request for anyone, especially not for our team. Director Glass has always enjoyed under manning the B.A.U. Where are you going?" He asked as I passed the elevators.

"The stairs, I'm not a huge fan of crowded small metal boxes." I was also deathly afraid of them. "I'll meet you at the bottom."

"That's ok, I could use the cardio." He shouldered his bag and followed me into the empty stair case. "Fear of elevators?"

"It's something like that. I can get in them if I absolutely have to. But if I can avoid it, then it do. It's not logical, but it seems to be the only fear I have trouble facing sometimes."

"Everyone has fears, it's only natural."

"Oh? What's yours?"

"The dark."

"I think that's a more logical fear than one of elevators."

"Not statistically. Every year there is an average of six elevator related deaths, and over 10,000 injuries. To my knowledge no one has ever died because of the inherent absence of light."

"Only six? Doesn't seem like that great of a risk, but to me, it seems enormous."

"Most fears come from the lack of control. The most common are of heights and roller coasters. It's good to be afraid of some things, as long as the fear doesn't start to run your life."

"I seem to be doing a pretty poor job of that today. I don't know if it was the insane amounts of caffeine of nerves, but I decided to walk up to the directors' office this morning."

We continued to talk about fears, both rational and irrational ones, until we reached the ground level and made our way to the parking lot. The conversation only halted as we approached my car.

"That's your car?"

"Yep, beautiful isn't she?"

"Defiantly, 1967, the Impala's best year, heavy duty suspension, Turbo-Jet 427-cubic-inch V8, one of the top 10 muscle car that enthusiasts looked for."

"You like cars?"

"No, not really, I read a lot about them when I was twelve."

"And you can remember all that?" I quickly grabbed my black duffle bag out of the back seat and resumed walking through the parking lot to the airfield.

"I have an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words a minute and an IQ of 187."

"I've heard of a photographic memory, but not an eidetic memory."

"Think of it as total recall, the ability to recall images, sounds, or objects in memory with extreme accuracy and in abundant volume. The word _eidetic_ means related to extraordinarily detailed and vivid recall of visual images, and comes from the Greek word είδος (_eidos_), which means "form"."

"Your tone makes it sound like you're not proud of it."

"It's not that, it actually comes in handy a lot on this job."

"Too personal?"

"No. When someone hears me talk, or learns that I'm different from them, they show signs of feelings inferior and or being intimidated. Outside this team, I'm not usually looked for to have fun conversations with."

"It's probably because they're jealous."

He laughed, obviously feeling more comfortable around me than he had back in the conference room. The conversation vered towards the shallowness and lock of drive that had consumed our un educated generatoin as we finally approached the jet.


	4. Angel Takes a Soul 3

Several jets were visible in their separate hangers along the side of the runway, but only one was out and fueling up to go. We could see Hotchner, Gideon and JJ boarding the plane, bags already loaded in the luggage compartment. The bureau had a policy about the firearms that were carried on board. It simply stated that all guns must be kept with the bags as a safety precaution. I didn't argue, or complain, as I took off my side arm. But taking off my 9mm TP9 made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was always armed, or always near one of my firearms. Not having one on me made me feel vulnerable and exposed.

The jet was smaller inside than it looked on the outside, but it was big enough for the team. A few small wooden tables, surrounded by four large white leather chairs, were located near both sides of the center of the room. Two couches were placed on opposite sides, one on each end, separated from the tables by a few other leather chairs that filled the empty spaces.

I joined JJ on the side of a table opposite Gideon and Reid, and buckled in as Morgan informed the pilot that we were ready for take off. Within minutes we were airborne several thousand feet above the earth and given back our freedom to move around. Everyone took out their files so we could continue discussing the case.

"How many nursing homes are in Athens?" Asked Gideon.

"Five total, but only four have suspicions that someone has been intentionally delivering a lethal overdose to their patients. Detective Logan Rice is the lead detective on the case. The latest victim that tested positive for a large amount of morphine was his mother." Explained JJ as she scanned over the papers she had laid out in a neat order in front of her.

"Shouldn't he be taken off the case because of conflict of interest?" I asked.

"At first the coroner ruled that his mother died of natural causes. But Rice insisted on an autopsy before she could be buried. After the discovery they started to exhume more bodies."

"Is there any reason why the tests weren't done at the time of death?" Asked Reid.

"Nothing official, the coroner was just very adamant about not performing them."

"Possibilities?" Hotchner was the only one on his feet, looking over all the information that was laid out before him.

"Angel of death," said Morgan, repeating what he had said earlier in the conference room.

"There are some cases where the UnSub kills patients or the elderly, not so that he can save them, but because he firmly believes that he is putting them out of their misery. The most common methods are lethal overdoses of sedatives and painkillers. While most angels of death can only get away with nine to twenty-seven successful kills, Roger Andermatt in Switzerland killed over forty-five before being caught. There was even a killing couple, Penny Whitlock and Marty Himebaugh worked together and gave six of their patients lethal doses of morphine, which is the most common drug used." I noticed Reid talked a lot with his hands when he dived into his little speeches.

"The why hasn't he been detected until now?" Asked Hotchner.

"On the surface most of the deaths seem to be peaceful. The UnSub puts each of them into different comfortable positions so that they only appear to have passed in their sleep. Even considering the age of the victims there doesn't seem to be any signs of a struggle," said JJ.

"That could mean one of two things," said Gideon.

"Either they trust him, or he kills them while they really are asleep," I said.

"It has to be someone with access to the homes who no one would question if they visited many different patients. A doctor, nurse, or anyone who works there is a suspect," said Morgan.

"We need to narrow down that list. When we land JJ can go straight to the office to set up. Gideon, take Morgan and go to Oakland Nursing Home and Wadeside Nursing Complex. Charlie, I want you to go with Reid to Highfield Retirement Home and Emerson Nursing Home. Talk to the staff and get their reactions to what could be happening. Are they concerned or do they think the deceased are better off dead than living with the constant problems that come with old age. I'll meet with the coroner and see what he has so far on the bodies that have already been exhumed." Hotchner didn't miss a beat while he was giving out the orders. He gave me the impression that he would have done well living the well structured military life.

"The chances of any drugs being left in body dramatically decrease by almost 50% after the first 72 hours of death. The chances of finding any after a week or more after being buried in the ground are almost impossible," explained Reid.

"So we either need to get lucky," began JJ.

"Or we need more bodies," Morgan finished morbidly. I hated to think about more people dying as much as anyone else on this jet, but sometimes, that was the reality of the case. The higher the number of bodies usually meant an increase in the amount of evidence. It wasn't a happy fact.

"Let's hope we get lucky then," said Gideon. "If this angel of death is killing because he believes he has to, then he's not going to stop until he's caught."

Once Hotchner had given us our assignments, the personalities on the plane started to separate. I didn't have my ipod, but I easily tuned out everyone else's conversations as I occupied myself with the photos from the three confirmed victim's. I had seen many photos of crime scene's, and been at even more. But these were different. They didn't make my stomach turn uncomfortably. These didn't even look like a crime had been committed. Their faces didn't show any signs of pain, their bodies were tucked neatly under their blankets, almost as if they had simply laid down to sleep and drifted off into the unknown. No signs of sadism or sexual drive. Studying victims from this side felt different than studying them from their sides. The one advantage of going undercover was having a better idea of who the target was. Taking a case like this, having nothing more than files, gave me an unfamiliar blind feeling.

It had been almost four months since I was allowed on any cases. The last time I was, it didn't end so well. I couldn't help but worry about how I had almost lost my job permanently, and how I was worried about it happening again. True, it was my choice to not take the offer of a new life, but I was born for this. This job, being around these kind of people, was the only thing I knew how to do anymore. Every face, every word, and every place of that failed operation haunted me. Two uniformed cops lost their lives that day. I had been told it wasn't my fault that the Bloods were wise enough to have dirty cops on their side, but I still felt guilty. I should have known what was going on. No one else knew as much as I did. No one had gotten as far as I had. The therapist the agency had made me see told me to expect the stress that came along with traveling, since I could never be sure if I was safe. But I doubted she really knew what she was talking about. It wasn't that I was worried about myself, but losing my job. In a weird twisted way, I think I would have rather died than even consider witness protection.


	5. Angel Takes a Soul 4

Three men gathered in the chairs near the doors farthest away from the rest of the group. Hotchner sat across from Gideon and Dr. Reid, arms resting on his knees and his face as emotionless as ever.

"Her first day on the job and she's already traveling with the team? This young girl must be talented," observed Gideon, comfortably seated near the wall.

"She's the best at what she does, and we don't have the time to wait on a new member just to get comfortable with the team. Moss was the only file Glass gave me that didn't seem to have a political agenda hidden under all her talents."

"You requested her?" Asked Reid.

"In a way. Director Glass gave me five files that she personally approved of and gave me the 'honor' of picking Elle's replacement."

"What made her stand out to you?" Asked Gideon, completely aware that his team mate knew he was intentionally probing for information. The worst thing about working with a group of the worlds best trained minds was that it was almost impossible to keep secrets from one another.

"Her specialty was undercover ops. But she trained and studied with some of the best profiling professors in the country. She was recruited young, graduated faster than everyone else in her class, has no problem with authority figures, top marksmen at the academy, and trained in basic hand to hand combat for several years. Moss has more experience than some agents twice her age."

"Hard to believe the bureau in Washington would willingly let a valuable agent like her go," said Reid, glancing over to where the new girl had her nose buried in paperwork.

"The details of the case weren't in her file, but her identity was compromised on her last operation. The agency did what they could to get her out of the city."

"Don't they normally enter agents in witness protection with those cases?" Reid's attention was back to his male companions.

"Most of the time, but they're sure they didn't need to. Even if they did, I doubt she would have taken it."

"What makes you say that?" Asked Gideon.

"I had a chance to glance at her file. She's never taken a vacation, or personal leave. Her life revolves around this job. She wouldn't have known what to do if she didn't have her work. Moss is going to fit in just fine with the B.A.U. Reid, I want you and JJ to keep an eye on her, help her adjust if she needs it. The two of you are close to her age, it will help make the change easier."

"Sure, no problem," but the young agent couldn't figure out why the most awkward member of the team was on what the experienced members called the 'babysitting job'. It was obvious why Hotch would suggest JJ, she could make anyone feel welcome. He just thought he'd make a fool of himself more than he would be of help.

On the other hand, she had been talking just fine to him despite the fact that he kept rambling off facts that no one ever cared to know about. He was surprised that she had actually listened and gave opinions of her own. It was rare he met someone outside the small group of profilers that wasn't repulsed by his knowledge for the weird and morbidly bizarre.

Gideon's first impression of Charlotte was different than that of the other agents. He had a paternal instinct towards all the agents, both new and seasoned. Everyone spoke of all her experience, but he doubted anyone else could see the innocence that remained deep inside her. Just by the way she dressed showed how modest she was, how she respected herself more than most young people her age.

The men changed the conversation back to the case, feeling a bit guilty for talking about their new teammate when she was in the same room. Any other conversations about her would have to wait until they learned more about their new member.


	6. Angel Takes a Soul 5

The rest of the trip was uneventful, the landing smoother than the take off, and the sights of Athens remained unseen to us as we exited the plane. Three black government issued Chevy Suburban were already waiting for us. Our assignments were clear and our minds ready, all we had to do was wait to fill in the detective who was waiting next to his own car in front of the ones we would be using. He was leaning against his dusty Saturn, getting dirt all over the back of his plain grey suit, smoking a cigarette.

JJ was the first to approach him while the rest of us grabbed our gear and guns.

"Detective Rice, I'm Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone earlier."

"Yes, yes, thank you for coming."

"Detective, there are Supervisory Special Agents Hotchner, Gideon, Dr. Reid, Morgan and Moss with the Behavioral Analysis Unit." She introduced us as we gathered around her.

"A friend of mind over in Indiana told me you guys were the best," Detective Rice dropped the cigarette on the ground and put it out with his shoe.

"Detective, you are aware that there may not be a serial killer here. We won't know until I speak with the county coroner and the employees of the nursing homes," Said Hotchner.

"I thought you'd say something like that." Rice drew himself up as tall as he could, though he was still at least two inches shorter than Hotch. "That's why I stopped by the hospital before I came here. Our medical examiner had already tested a few of the bodies we were granted permission to exhume. Four out of seven had traces of morphine in their systems. Their records state that there was no medical reason for them to have been given any while they were alive."

"In which case we came prepared to work. Before we can give a profile to your officers, my team needs to gather information from the nursing homes. I'm headed to the hospital right now and I could use your help." I admired Hotchs' ability to take control over any conversation, not that it wasn't hard when the only other participant was as emotional as Detective Rice. "We'll meet back at the station by two. Call if anything changes." He then proceeded to get into Rice's car.

JJ took the first Suburban by herself, while Gideon and Morgan took one together. Reid and I got into the last one. He was the driver, and I was the navigator in cases the GPS failed. After tossing my stuff in the back I plugged in the address for Highfield Retirement Home.

"Shouldn't we be looking into the fifth retirement home just in case?" I asked to break the silence. The radio wasn't supposed to be on in case we got a phone call, it was considered to be a serious distraction.

"Not necessarily. Here," He reached into his tan leather bag sitting between the two front seats and handed me a small folded up map. "I had a few extra minutes on the way here and made a rough geographical profile with the information we have now. The four that are resuming recently deceased patients are all within a fifteen mile radius of eight apartment buildings and several small subdivisions close to the south side of town. Clove Retirement Community is the only one located on the north side, closer to small businesses and the hospital. It's 21.6 miles away from what could be the comfort zone."

If anyone else had put the detailed, color coded map together I never would have believed that it only took a few minutes. It seemed as though his abilities and talents were never ending.

"So as long as the UnSub doesn't move of change locations because of the increased police presence, in theory, Clove should have nothing to worry about."

"In theory. How are you with interviews?" He asked.

"It's been about two years since I've conducted an interview, so I guess we'll just have to wait and find out. Honestly I don't remember as many interrogation tactics as I should."

"You'll do fine. It's amazing what the human pain is capable of remembering. Even though most information is processed by the sensory registers are encoded in short term memory, the brain replays situations and facts both consciously and unconsciously. You know how most people refer to things with the phrase 'it's like riding a bike' once you learn and practice something you never forget it. There is truth to that."

"In a strange way, that actually makes me feel better."

"Hotch wouldn't have put you on this case if you weren't ready."

The GPS announced that there was only one mile left until we would arrive at our destination when Reids' cell phone rang.

"Garcia?" He asked as he put it on speaker.

"Good morning you devilishly handsome doctor," I raised my eyebrow and gave him a questioning look, trying my hardest not to laugh at his obvious embarrassment.

"Garcia did you need something?"

"Reid you're starting to sound like Hotch on a good day, disregarding my pleasant greetings."

"I'm sorry, I'm just focused on something else right now."

"Well make that big brain of yours multitask, I have valuable information that you might find useful."

"Go ahead," he made a motion with his hand for me to write down what Garcia was going to say.

"Ok, I just got off the phone with Morgan. I've been running checks on all four nursing homes and could only find one man who has a connection with all of them. Dr. Chase Garron has previous employment records at Emerson, Wadeside, and Oakland. He's been working at Highland for the past five years." I scribbled down the information in a small notebook that I took from my bag.

"Do you have anything on him?"

"Not yet sugar but I'm still digging. Oh Reid, have you met the new girl yet? I meant to ask Morgan but I forgot. I've been trying to find her, but she doesn't seem to be around here, and I couldn't get to any of you before you took off in your private X-Jet. Andersons team was talking and said they saw her earlier, but-" Reid cut her off before she could finish.

"Garcia she's sitting right here."

"Reid why didn't you tell me she was already out in the field? Did you even explain who I am? She probably thinks some un-medicated computer freak is stalking the team."

The thought hadn't crossed my mind. I had to keep biting my lip to keep from laughing. Reid didn't seem to find it funny and handed me the phone as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Hi Garcia, I'm-"

"Charlotte Moss, the new transfer from Seattle. I know, I mean, your file was sent to me so I could add you to the teams file. I'm required to keep records of everyone on the team. Wow. Now I really sound like a stalked, but I'm not, I promise. I'm the Technical Analysis, Penelope Garcia."

"It's nice to meet you Garcia, and the name is Charlie."

"Same. Keep me updated, if you need anything just call. Peace out." With a click the line went silent so I handed Reid back his phone.

"Sorry about that, Garcia gets a little excited about meeting new people."

"No need to be, she seems very interesting."

"Interesting would be a very mild way to describe Garcia. She's one of the best computer analyses in the F.B.I. She just hasn't discovered de-café yet."

I stuck my notepad in my pocket and got out of the vehicle. I was looking forward to actually meeting the computer tech when we got back. But I couldn't focus on the prospects of a new friend. My nerves had been calm up until this point, and though I wasn't anxious, my heart was starting to beat a little faster from the excitement.

"At least we have a good idea on who to start with," I said as we approached the building.

Highland was a small facility, only one story high with an enclosed garden on the left side. Two small flower beds lined the cement path up to the main doors. The building itself had white siding with a blue roof and matching blue shutters.

Reid showed his good gentle manners that were rarely seen in men anymore, and held the door open for me. The smell of stale human life and sterilized rooms hit my senses like a train, making my eyes sting and lungs ache for clean air. I always hated hospitals and nursing homes, not because of the dead bodies that were always being wheeled around, but because of the smell.

The pale plump strawberry blonde woman at the front desk looked up immediately as we walked in. She set her _Women's Weekly_ magazine down and gave us her full attention.

"Hello, and welcome to Highland. My name is Nancy, what can I help you with today?"

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid and this is SSA Moss, we're with the F.B.I." I took out my credentials as he introduced me. She didn't look shocked like I expected her to be. Instead, she seemed very pleased that we were in the lobby.

"Thank the Heavens! I was hoping you would come."

"Were you expecting us?" Asked Reid.

"No, but I was praying you would, what with everyone going on around here."

"So you believe some of the patients here aren't dying of natural causes?" I asked. With a pen already in my hand I felt professional.

"At first it seemed so, it's not unusual if one of two of our sweet residents pass away in a month's time. But in the past two months we've lost eleven. I've worked here fifteen years and have never seen so many pass so quickly."

"You do work with the elderly, research proves that each passing year the average human life span is slowly decreasing. Right now we're just doing a preliminary investigation to see if these were intentional homicides or if they were mistakes." The disappointment showed on Nancy's face as Reid explained why we were here. Her thin lips, caked in pale pink lip-stick, pouted down, casting her chin in a shadow. I tried not to notice that her lips were not only in need of a better shade, but a waxing as well.

"Trust me young man, there is something wrong here. I'm just thankful that you're here now. If there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Could you get a list of all current employee's and volunteers, including those fired over the past four months?"

"Sure thing honey, I can print those out for you right now." She sat back down in her chair, causing it to squeak noticeably against her weight, and sent her pink fingers flying over the keyboard.

While Reid stood there and waited I decided to take a look at the bulletin boards posted at the entrance doors to the east wing. Nothing jumped out at me. All the photos were of the residents with family, volunteers and staff members. The aged faces were happy in most of the moments captured in time. The one's that weren't were understandable. Being old and unable to keep living a full life was a good enough reason to lose joy in the simple things.

"Charlie," Reid called me away from the pictures. "Dr. Garron is off today, so until we can interview him we should talk to the two nurses on duty and move on to Emerson."

"Sounds like a plan. Why did you get another list from her? I thought Garcia was already cross referencing employee names from all the nursing homes."

"She is, but nursing homes, like most hospitals, have young people serve their community service instead of jail time. To keep track of their hours, they add them on a volunteer list. Since they're not paid the government won't have any record of them. Garcia could only get those records by hacking into sealed juvenile files. Though the thrill would excite her, the team can't afford to have her arrested."

"Where are the nurses?"

"One is in the east wing, the other on duty in the west wing. We can split up if that's ok with you."

"That's fine. I think I can handle it."

"Ok, I'll take the west wing and meet you back here."

I nodded and turned around. I knew what I had to ask: basic questions about Dr. Garron's behavior, if any one person talked about how painful it was to watch them suffer, or how if the patients would be better off dead. The nurse who was on duty wasn't very helpful but she was very concerned and sorry that she couldn't be of more help. She only worked part time there and didn't really know the visitors that well. It was still worth a shot though.


	7. Angel Takes a Soul 6

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner knew that any member of his team would have taken this assignment if he had asked it of them. But he hadn't. He often preached against sheltering agents from brutal and horrific scenes. They were situations that he believed everyone in the agency needed to face to be able to do this job properly. He also believed that his team had proven what they could handle more times than any other agent should. It may not have shown on his face, but Hotchner did hold some compassion to what he exposed his team to. This wasn't something he made a habit out of. He just didn't see any reason why everyone had to spend the day smelling and looking at decomposing corpses.

Detective Logan Rice took him around the back entrance to the morgue. It wasn't the fasted way into the building, but the simple job of parking turned out to be more difficult than he thought it would be. The reason? At least a dozen trucks were there, each taking up multiple spaces, and carrying dirt covered caskets.

Agent Hotchner left his sun glasses on, even after they were inside. This was one of those rare moments where he wore them not to be intimidating, but to hide his eyes. The stench of death was so strong it was starting to make even his seasoned eyes water.

Inside sealed caskets lined one side of the long hall way, leaving only enough space for one person to walk by at a time.

Hotch allowed Rice to go first down the hall. Relinquishing any form of control or position of leadership was another rare occurrence for him. But Rice knew where he was going, and it reflected well on the bureau when agents didn't act superior to the local law enforcements.

The autopsy room was the last room on the left, where all the bodies were slowly migrating to. The coroner was just finishing closing up a male body unrelated to their case when they entered. He was a short man, with a large bald patch on the top of his head and he was up to his elbows in blood.

"Detective, aren't you sick of this mess yet?" Asked the blood stained man.

"I brought someone with me this time Doc. This is Agent Hotchner with the F.B.I."

He nodded in Hotch's direction, but under the circumstances, the men didn't shake hands.

"Dr. Malcom is our county coroner."

"Today is one of the days I should be getting paid by the body instead of the hour. On top of all the bodies you've had me testing, we had a bus wreck this morning, no survivors." Hotch didn't find the doctors sense of humor appropriate, so he chose not to comment.

"How many bodies have you exhumed?"

"So far the families have allowed the city to dig up the last forty three patients that died from the nursing homes that are being investigated."

"Did you go farther back than six months?" Asked Hotch, surprised by the large number.

"That's just everyone from the past two. I'm still waiting to get most of the results back."

Hotch clenched his teeth and observed the bodies while the doctor and the detective exchanged more small talk. If these were only the bodies of people who had died in the last two months, it was only the tip of the ice burg for what's to come. This unsub wasn't about to stop. If anything he was going to increase the body count.


	8. Angel Takes a Soul 7

It hadn't taken long to do the same routine at Emerson. Most of the nurses seemed genuinely surprised that something was going on, and all of them were very cooperative. We had gathered lists, and what seemed to be not a lot of useful information. We even questioned some of them about Dr. Garron as cautiously as we could since he wasn't considered a suspect yet.

Athens wasn't very small, but it wasn't one of Ohio's larger cities either. The police department was near down town, right between the post office and a small mom and pop book store. Reid parked the suburban around the back of the five story brick building in the main parking lot.

Inside showed how old the building really was. Our team was set up on the first floor where Rice's office was. He and one other detective were the only ones with office's separated from everyone else on the floor. All the other uniformed police officers were crammed together in the middle of the room. Their desks were overflowing with months of paper work, and dominated by monsters of computers.

There was no air-conditioning, and the heating was limited in the confined space. Rice had set us up in his office, away from the bustle of the other cops, and it was the only room with a table large enough for all of us to sit down.

We were the last ones to arrive to the briefing. I chose not to take a seat, and remained standing just inside the door way. Hotchner wasted no time in pulling everyone together.

"Was anyone able to located Dr. Garron?"

"He was scheduled for a vacation from Highland. Garcia is checking to see where he went and when he's due back," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"We also have lists of volunteer records, and juveniles that serve out their community service at the homes," Said Morgan.

"Those aren't going to do any good." Said Hotchner.

"Why not?" Morgan seemed agitated that his superior knew something he didn't.

"I was at the hospital all afternoon waiting on the test results. Out of forty three recently deceased patients in the last two months, twenty one of them had high levels of Succinylcholine, Povulon, and Morphine in their systems that had no reason to be there. Our unsub has been doing this a long time if he's that comfortable with killing that many people in such a short amount of time. It's not likely a juvenile is doing this."

"Then they defiantly have medical experience; probably have worked at multiple medical facilities: hospitals, nursing homes, and so on," said Gideon.

"Garcia informed us that Dr. Garron has worked at three of the four nursing homes. If he's the unsub, it wouldn't be that strange for him to visit them even if he wasn't currently employed." Said Reid.

At that moment Morgan's phone rang and he answered it on speaker.

"You're on speaker so behave."

"You sure do know how to make a girl feel insignificant," Garcia's voice answered him.

"Do you have something for us baby girl?"

"Ok, I followed the doctor's trail, and apparently he's been spending the past five days down in Florida. His flight isn't due in until tomorrow morning."

"Were you able to find his reasons for leaving the other nursing homes?" Asked Hotchner.

"All his records say was he left by choice, no one forced him out, and he didn't give a reason."

"Can you find anything else on him? Any little bit of information will help."

"As far as I can tell so far, he doesn't have anything fishy in his past other than the changing places of employment."

"Thanks Garcia." She bid farewell to Morgan and hung up.

"Detective Rice, I think we're ready to give your men a profile," Said Hotchner.

The detective gathered his men in the main room while Hotchner, Gideon and Reid did most of the talking. They basically relayed everything we had put together, used simpler terms, and made it understandable to everyone else. JJ needed help setting up a press conference to inform the families of those living in nursing homes of what was happening. Since our main suspect was out of state, no one was worried that he might get scared away.

It all seemed to simple to me. So simple that even the state detective should have been able to put this together without needing help from the B.A.U. Garron was too easy to point a finger at. As I watched JJ give the press what they wanted, I couldn't get this horrible feeling out of the pit of my stomach, and wondered if the others felt it as well.


End file.
